In Love with Your Carnage (Not the Symbiote!)
by NightQueen013
Summary: After frustrating an alien invasion by way of killing accurate clones of each and every superhero on earth, our favorite web-slinger finds himself without his aunt, home or secret identity. And with the added bonus of impressing the supervillain community so much they've all become enamored with him. Why is this his life?
1. What kind of lame aliens invade Queens?

**Disclamer, disclamer, I don't own, yadaa, yadaa, yaa.**

**I want you all to know that although this is Crackfic, I won't let that keep me from decent writing, so critiques/pointing out mistakes/suggestions are welcome.**

**Also, hurl anything resembling comicbook continuity out the window before you read this. It's its own thing, I call it Earth 6-WhatIsThisIDon'tEven-6. Enjoy.**

* * *

Mr. Morales droned on and on about pH at equivalence point, something Peter had read beforehand out of interest and now found beyond dull.

After placing sufficient evidence of coming prepared for class on the school desk before him (notebook, pencils, textbook, what-have-you), Peter departed with his awareness of the classroom at large and retired into the depths of his mind, intelligent eyes and gentle face assuming a vacant but thoughtful expression while the teen scribbled on his notebook as if dutifully taking notes.

_If I used sonication to solidify some of my web fluid, I could use it as fabric for a more resistant costume. Maybe adding fibrinogen to the formula would keep the webbing from dissolving after an hour…_ Peter mused, adding a barely legible note to his formula.

Flash, taking advantage of his distraction, took the notebook from Peter's desk and held it up to his face, sneering at the smaller teen. His face changed quickly and comically when the jock read it.

"What's all this garbage?" He twisted it around as if that would help him understand, "You trying to make a bomb or something?"

"What was that, Mr. Thompson?" The teacher turned around to glare at him.

"Nothing, sir." Flash quickly set the notebook back on Peter's desk.

"Very well, as I was saying-" the school bell rang. "Read up on pages 70 to 72, see you next Thursday."

* * *

Spider-man swung across Manhattan on his webs, carefree, above the rush hour traffic.

A piece of paper hit him in the face, nearly making him fall off balance. He ripped it from his face to find today's edition of the Daily Bugle, featuring a picture of him under the usual bold-lettered libel. He frowned, flinging it away, and looking up to find a familiar leather-clad figure on a nearby rooftop.

Swinging up, he stuck to the building's side and crawled up.

"Hey, who let you outta the bag?" He crouched on the edge of the rooftop, stopping her.

"Hello, Spider," She purred, twirling the diamond necklace around her throat, "And here I had my afternoon nicely planned: a little innocent jewelry theft followed by hot cocoa… But I suppose I can make some space in my busy schedule for you." She ran away in the direction she had come from, "Come on, Itsy-Bitsy Spider, let's play!"

Needing no more incentive, Spider-man sprung after her, easily stopping her with a web to her back. He pulled her in and retrieved the stolen necklace with practiced ease.

"There! An innocent!" an eerie voice called from the edge of the rooftop, "Hello, kitty. I'm VENOM, Lethal Protector. Do you need saving today?"

Venom crawled up the side of the building, much like Spider-man had done before. The hero winced, by now familiar with his foe's "Lethal Protector" stick -trying to encourage Venom to protect innocents without slaughtering "the guilty" was by and large harder than it should-, and preparing for disaster.

"Looks like there's another Spider for this cat to bat around." She elbowed Peter, breaking free of his grasp she seized the necklace back, "Some other day though." She dashed away.

"Ooooh... sexy. We love tough women." Venom chased after her.

Spider-man joined the chase, hoping it wouldn't end in tragedy.

And how very like him was that his phone should ring at that very moment. Taking it out of the inner pocket in his costume and managing a breathy "Hey".

"Hey, Pete, how you been?" He felt a great deal of relief hearing Harry's cheerful tone.

"I've been better. How's Europe treating you?" Peter webbed Venom to the ground, slowing him down to go passed him.

"Not that these five months haven't been nice, but rehab and I are through, man. I'm clean and coming back in two days."

"Really? That's great!" Venom breaking free of the webbing and chasing after Peter with renewed speed was not so great, though.

"Try not to cause the end of an era or something until I get back, will ya?" Harry teased, whilst Peter evaded Venom's claws.

"Pfft, most interesting thing in my agenda is a date with Mary Jane "Wonderful Personality" Watson tomorrow." He shuddered dramatically, dodging a shot of Venom's web.

Venom's web hit Black Cat, gluing her in place.

Peter pocketed his phone, and focused on Venom. He broke off an old, rusty antenna, with a hard yank. He swung it up and brought it hard down on the metallic air conditioner, causing a metallic booming.

He did it again and again, until Venom ran off.

He approached Black Cat, once more taking the necklace from her.

"Ever think about ditching the rules and having some fun?" She eyed the necklace meaningfully,"Give it a try. Take the weight of the world off your shoulders."

"You don't understand. You don't know why I do this."

"It doesn't matter. Whatever the reasons, you can't change the past. What's done is done. You have to live for the present."

"Hippie." He joked, sparing her a last glance before shooting a web to the closest skyscraper.

"Fine, be that way." She chuckled, "All I'm saying is that someday you're gonna snap or something."

He web-slung away.

* * *

Back home after returning the stolen jewelry, Peter grins at the spider weaving a web in the porch as he opens the door. The smell of meatloaf and pie greeted him, greatly improving his mood.

"I'm home," he announced, entering the kitchen with the hope of sneaking a bite early.

She chatted about how exited she was about him meeting Mary Jane over dinner, whilst Peter tried not to shudder every time she mentioned the girl's name.

His best friend was coming back, he had a date (involuntary as it might be), and his aunt's health was stable. Life was good, for once.

* * *

Explosions rang in the streets, putting a ruthless end to the peaceful night.

Peter struggled awake and reached his phone, checking twitter for some kind of clue as to what was going down outside.

"Alien invasion on the area of Queens. Clones of Super Heroes on rampage." TheDailyBugle informed.

"What kind of lame alien invasion lands on Queens?" Peter muttered irately as he fumbled about his school bag for his mask, "And at four in the morning too! Stupid innovative aliens."

He found it on the front pocket, alongside his gloves, and wasted no time in wearing them. The downside of being the only superhero living in Queens was that he would have to contain this invasion alone until the cavalry arrived. Nothing too difficult, considering.

"Peter, are you awake? We need to leave!" Aunt May called from the other side of Peter's locked door as she twisted the knob in a desperate attempt to pry it open.

The situation had become more complicated now. What was he supposed to do? Open the door and say "Surprise! I've been Spider-man for over two years now and forgot to tell you, so if you could get yourself someplace safe while I handle the aliens that'd be great"? There was no way that he would…

A sudden explosion interrupted his train of thought, and his home, itheir/i home, collapsed to the ground.

His shoulders strained under the pressure of holding on the fallen roof over them, Peter coughed in a desperate attempt to empty his lungs from dust and smoke.

"Peter?" Aunt May called, this time from under the door.

"Aunt May, hang on, you can make it through this." He told her, knowing it wasn't true but stubbornly refusing to acknowledge that fact just yet.

"Peter… I'm proud of you, you know that, right? You're my hero." Her voice was weaker now.

"I'm not a hero, aunt May. I-I failed Uncle Ben, Captain Stacy, Gwen, you…" He struggled to come up with someone who he hadn't let down, but no one came to mind.

"You've done no such thing. They might be gone but they wouldn't want you to live beating yourself over their deaths, myself included." She said, and Peter noticed her voice getting even weaker with each word. "If there's one thing that you are, it's a hero, Spider-man."

"You knew?" All this time, every lie he had told, and she knew?

"Silly dear, you're just like Ben, always trying to do the right thing on your own," her voice was barely a whisper now, "My dear Ben... I'm ready." She breathed, more to herself... no, more to her deceased husband than to her nephew.

Old women with heart conditions aren't exactly made to survive a house collapsing on them, that much was obvious.

Enraged, Spider-man pushed the wreckage that had once been his home off himself and tore his way to his aunt. After lifting the debris off her, he immediately kneeled to check her pulse, but he was too late.

"I'll never let anyone down again," He clasped her wrist as if it would have anchored her to life.

Another explosion, this time on the house next door, brought him back to the alien invasion at hand.

He couldn't just stay there, kneeling before her still warm corpse and begging for forgiveness she was no longer able to give. The invasion would not stop itself, and many houses on the block had been leveled already.

Then, it was all screams and cries and panic on the streets as what looked like the evil counterparts of the X-men ran rampant through Peter's neighborhood.

* * *

Now there was no sound other than Spider-man's deliberately hard footsteps as he approached an alien, apparently the only alien that had arrived along with the evil clones, at the heart of Queens. The being was bizarre-looking, wore a jewel-embedded armor, and seemed to have just come to watch as the clones destroyed the city and report back to the other aliens.

Had he been anything less than no-more-joking-around wrathful, he would have asked it what kind of alien invasion decides to land on Queens, but as it was he just dropped Captain America's clone's severed head at its feet (well, if you could call them that) and jammed his index finger on its armor-clad thorax.

"You have to the count of ten to take your space fleet, go back to where you came from, and never return here. OR ELSE." He growled, and the sheer hate on his voice surprised even him.

He would lie if he ever said that he didn't feel a rush of satisfaction seeing the big bad alien in fancy armor gulp and drop the very large gun it had clasped in its… for a lack of a better word, let's call that appendage a _hand_.

"One." The growl sent the alien racing back into its spaceship.

"Two." He murmured to himself, for the hell of it, as the spaceship departed.

"Three." He watched the disappearance of what he later found out had been a force field that had been keeping the city isolated from the rest of the world, still well outside the atmosphere.

"Four." The only spaceship that had landed on earth beat a hasty retreat.

"Wise choice." Peter muttered, once he lost track of the starship.

He was nearly out of web fluid, so he should probably walk instead… The problem was that he didn't even know if he had somewhere left to go. His home had been wrecked in the invasion alongside most of Queens -what kind of alien invasion lands on Queens anyway?- and he hadn't been fast enough and his only relative had paid the price for that. He turned on one heel and surveyed the vicinity, looking for injured civilians, for an excuse to delay thinking about what he had lost, anything.

What he did not expect was to find was the people whose clones he had just ruthlessly exterminated, freshly arrived and staring at him in something akin to shell shock; well, all except for Deadpool, whose mask was rolled up to his nose while he nonchalantly slurped on a humongous soda bottle through a twisty pink straw.

"Remind me to be very nice to him from now on," the mercenary paused his slurping enough to say. "I mean, I've seen the strongest, biggest, meanest, toughest, smartest, etcetera, whatever, try to go against one, just one, of the guys he just knocked dead and it ends in the Big Bad going home to mommy crying! And it was all so freaking fast, I blinked and missed when he chopped Thor in half midair and let the hammer fall and squash the freakin' Hulk's head in. But it's all cool, I can just watch the video. " He went back to slurping his drink, with a big goofy grin on his scarred lips.

"Um. Ah. Well…" Spider-man scratched at the back of his neck, trying to come up with a good thing to say. "Wait. Video? What video?"

"The Usur'Ptemal are an alien conquering race known for cloning a planet's strongest warriors and using them to invade." Mr. Fantastic explained, visibly snapping himself out of his shock, "They are also extremely arrogant and record the invasions as they broadcast them across the invaded world; I believe this is the first one they haven't been able to conquer."

"Serves them right; what kind of idiot goes and says _Hey, not even Galactus could stand up against this planet, let's try them_?" Spider-man huffed, flicking an strand of hair that fell over his eye.

Realizing what he had done, he touched the side of his face gingerly, all too aware now that his mask was missing.

Well, he had no living relatives left or a home to go back to, on top of being soaked in alien clone blood, and recorded as having efficiently murdered copies of earth's top-notch superhero population unmasked. Parker luck had definitely outdone itself this time.

"Hey, Tony… could I…? Can I crash with you guys at the tower for a while?" he said weakly, before quickly adding, "My place was sort of destroyed."

Whoever tells you that it's not awkward asking the guy whose clone you had recently murdered in cold blood if he could let you crash at his place is a lying liar.

"Yeah, sure." But Tony Stark is cool like that.


	2. Be mine OR ELSE

"This is it... so..." Tony gestured vaguely at the apartment –He was giving Peter a whole apartment, a full floor just for himself!-, visibly uncomfortable and struggling not to show it, "If you need anything, just tell JARVIS. Pepper left you some clothes in your room's dresser. I'm going to be at a press conference with the rest of the team so… guess I'll see you around."

"Thanks." Peter gave an acknowledging nod in the billionaire's direction.

Tony took this as good enough and quickly abandoned the premises, leaving Peter to his silent grieving.

Exploring the place a little, he found the aforementioned dresser and the slightly too-big clothes, and locked himself in the bathroom to wash up. Despite what Peter initially thought, the cold shower didn't do anything to deflect the increasing numbness taking over his body and mind, but at least he didn't look like a bloody murderer anymore.

"Murderer…" He whispered at the mirror, before hastily breaking eye contact in shame.

The teen let his feet carry him to the lavish leather couch on the center of the –his, now- living room. He laid down on it to stare numbly at the barren white ceiling; big brown eyes wide open in a guilt laden unblinking gaze... not that aunt May was the first person that had died because of his negligence, he reminded himself bitterly, he had lost too many now.

"It wasn't even some big drawn out invasion. It lasted what, half an hour?" He told the ceiling -and Jarvis.

"Forty seven minutes, actually, sir." Jarvis corrected him.

Peter blinked once.

Then twice.

Then the tears started to flood from his eyes, still staring at the ceiling.

He cried and cried and cried some more, just staring numbly at the ceiling, at the big blankness that lied above him, and silently begging forgiveness to everyone he had ever let down in his life. Eventually he just closed his eyes and let darkness engulf him.

* * *

He awoke to rising sunlight coming from the open window and the prattle of a certain mercenary crouching at the coffee table and holding a large sack in his arms.

"Spidey, bro! Wazzup?" Deadpool grinned so wide it made Peter wonder if the mercenary had slit his mouth beforehand just for that purpose.

Deadpool, like most lunatics with superpowers, was oddly capable of sneaking past the tightest of securities if he felt like it and got paid for it. To the point where finding him sneaking around the Avenger's Tower had become akin of running into a wandering fly in a bright red spandex suit with katanas strapped to its back. Even Peter, who had only been to the tower as an honorary member helping out, had stopped questioning Deadpool's breaking and entering skills.

"What are you doing here?" It's useless trying to argue with a madman, but at least you could try and convince him to leave you alone.

"Special delivery for my friend Spidey!" Deadpool threw the sack on Peter's lap, "Take a look!"

Eyeing Deadpool suspiciously -more than usual, in any case-, Peter reached into the sack to pull out a small, green jewelry box with a bold yellow H engraved.

"What?" He inspected it from every possible angle, unsure of what it was. Because it could NOT be what it seemed like.

"It's from... Aww, I forget, but they all wrote cards and put it inside their gifts so you'd know which was whose."

Peter, deciding this was a nightmare and that he had just fallen asleep crying, shook the box lightly next to his ear. Since he couldn't make out any ticking-bomb sounds and his spider-sense wasn't wreaking havoc inside his skull, he opened it to be confronted by a folded, bloodstained note.

_RULE THE WORLD BY MY SIDE OR YOU SHALL REGRET IT._

_-MADAME HYDRA._

Under said note, he was horrified to find a shinny engagement ring.

"WHAT?"

"Ah, she's not really a romantic, is she? Check the rest."

Upon inspection, Peter realized ten things:

1) The sack was full of personalized jewelry boxes, like the first one.

2) All of them were from super villains.

3) The boxes all had some kind of note inside them, generally following the sentiment of Madam Hydra's.

4) Said boxes also had engagement rings with alarmingly big diamonds. Like, "compensating for something" diamonds. A thought that was on equal parts hilarious and frightening.

5) His life sucked. So. Very. Much.

6) If and when Thor found out that Loki had also sent an engagement ring, his Asgardian teammate would suddenly become a matchmaker just for the sake of his brother's happiness.

7) This was all very creepy.

8) Deadpool seemed to think this was all hilarious.

9) Webbing mouthy mercenaries to a wall could do wonders for one's mood.

10) This was going to be a loooooooooong day.

"Jarvis, inform the others that Deadpool sneaked into my apartment," Peter said, craning his neck to look up, "And tell them that he- well- no, better if they see it themselves."

"Very well sir. They'll arrive at approximately ten minutes."

"No rush," Peter decided, "Deadpool isn't going anywhere anyway."

"Hey, don't just dismiss me! I'm a serious treat; don't let my pretty face fool you!" Deadpool whined, attempting to struggle in the webbing but only managing to entangle himself further in it.

Peter considered using some more webs for his captive's mouth, but decided against it. It was expensive and he only had one cartridge left, after all.

"Deadpool, I'm going to ask just once: what is the meaning of this?" He pointed dramatically to the jewelry boxes strewn on the coffee table.

"Well, when a super villain loves a Spidey veeeery much..."

"Not that, you jerk! Why did the super villain community suddenly feel the need to marry me?" This had to be the most bizarre thing Peter had ever said, and he had said many bizarre things in the last three years.

"Helloooo? Earth to Spidey, you there? Did you seriously not notice you slaughtered all of the world's superheroes during a worldwide broadcast three hours ago?"

"I- Those were not- they were only clones. Cheap copies from sloppy aliens that were lame enough to invade Queens." _What kind of lame alien invasion lands on __**Queens**__?_

"You keep telling yourself that, but it sure looked like you were enjoying yourself. What with using Clone Mr. Fantastic to tie up the Clone Fantastic Four, and telling yo' momma jokes to clone flame-head so he'd power up and cook them to dead as Mr. Not-So-Fantastic-Now melted on them like plastic."

"That's a valid battle strategy and nothing more!" A morbid one, but a very valid one.

"Uh-huh. And the jokes to rile up Wolverine and Cyclops so you could throw Jean Gray in the middle of their fight and have her die traumatically enough so her accidental murderers would try to kill each other next? Was that also just another battle strategy?"

"Yes!" It was a lot easier to take the telepaths down unexpectedly, and to have other opponents fight themselves was a plus.

"Oh, Okay." Deadpool smiled another of his too-wide smiles, "So, what 'cha think of the rings?"

"They are the creepiest thing I have ever seen." And there was some tough competition on that department!

"Creepier than Ghost Rider's innards? 'Cuz let me tell ya, I never wouldda though he also had flames on the inside."

"They are the creepiest thing I've ever seen." He repeated, putting emphasis on every word as he glared daggers at Deadpool.

"Aww, I thought you'd like 'em. I mean, I told everyone 'If ya'll love him so much why don't 'cha just marry him?' and they were like 'dude, really?' and I was like 'Yeah, really.' and they were like..."

"How- How did you talk to all of them?"

"EvilMail video chat, they do it whenever something important happens, or when they wanna brag, or when they want to insult each other and banter, or..."

Peter webbed Deadpool's mouth shut.

Ignoring the man's muffled attempts at conversation, he plopped down heavily on the couch and toyed the universal remote control he picked up from the coffee table until he managed to turn on the huge TV across from him and watch the news.

"...Otto Octavious A.K.A. Doctor Octopus gave himself up to the authorities just moments ago, making him the thirtieth street-level super criminal to give himself in in the last three hours. Is it possible that they're all afraid of Spider-man?"

It cut to a clip showing Dr. Octopus being taken into an armored truck where Vulture, Shocker, Electro, and Mysterio were already cuffed and sitting idly.

He switched the channel abruptly, just in time to catch a clip of the Avenger's press conference.

"...will not be seen fighting crime for some time, since he's going to be formally trained by S.H.I.E.L.D. in order to officially join their payroll and the Avengers' line-up. He's one of the good guys, one of the best, and it's times like this when I'm glad he's on our side. So criminals eat your hearts out!" Peter found himself smiling at Tony's support; the man wasn't a complete jerk ALL the time.

* * *

When the Avengers reported to Peter's floor to check up the mess and Peter strained to explain everything without freaking out, Tony's booming laughter reminded Peter that Iron Man was a jerk most of the time though.

"Is this for real?" Captain America eyed the little box adorned by a red skull, horrified.

"Apparently. And if you think the boxes are tacky, just wait 'til you read the notes." Peter was pacing back and forth anxiously on the ceiling, hoping his teammates would know what to do.

Hawkeye laughed right along with Tony, checking out all the boxes, rings, and notes, while he hummed "Here comes the bride" to himself.

"Spider-man, you are a most fortunate fellow!" Thor's booming voice shook Peter out of his SuperVillainsWantToMarryMeWhyIsThisMyLife daze.

"Our definition of fortunate must be very different, then." He snapped.

Thor just showed him a little green box adorned with a stylized L, smiling goofily. Oh, no.

"Thor, I don't want to marry Loki… I don't want to marry anyone! I'm only seventeen so I couldn't marry anyone even if I wanted to, which I don't!" Ok, maybe he was hyperventilating a little bit.

"But in a few months you can marry if you want to," Clint smirked, "And I'll bet it'll be such a pretty wedding too! Why, kid, you can even have a spider silk gow-" The sentence was cut short, as Peter landed on Clint's back and caused him to collapse to the ground.

"No one is marrying anybody if they don't want to." Steve, the long-suffering voice of reason, declared sternly as he helped Peter up from Clint's back.

Bruce was the only soul understanding enough to put a hand on Peter's shoulder and try to comfort him, "Well, I suppose this could be worse."

Like a dam that gives in under too much pressure, Peter's patience had been breached.

"Worse? WORSE? I lost my aunt, my home, my secret identity... everything I had in this life is now gone and the super criminals of the world decided that wasn't enough and want to make me…" He swallowed, uncomfortable, "They want to marry me. How could this be any worse?"

"Uh... The aliens could have cloned you and made the clone claim that he was the real you to drive you to insanity."

"Yeah right. They didn't even bother to clone me. Nobody but a few New Yorkers even cared that I existed until this morning and I honestly wish it could go back to that."

"Why **didn't** they clone him if they bothered to clone everyone from Cloak and Dagger to Squirrel Girl?" Natasha chimed in from her spot at the doorway.

"And what a gruesome fate her poor fluffy self suffered," Clint muttered.

"Snap out of it!" Peter snarled, "She was a clone, all of them were. I'd never kill anyone!"

There was an uncomfortable silence for a long minute before realization downed on Peter and he backed away from the others, towards the window.

"You think I'd do it, don't you?"

No answer was spoken, but if the uncomfortable looks on their faces were anything to go by the answer was clear.

Not caring about having little webbing fluid, Peter flung himself out of the window and web swung away.

* * *

He somersaulted in the air, as if all the movement would clear his conflicted mind. It lasted less than he would have liked, leaving him to land on a back alley and continue by foot.

The streets of Manhattan were cold and uncaring, the people that passed by his sides were unaware of who was among them, of what was right before their eyes, and it suited him just fine to be ignored. It reminded him of school.

Of Harry, his only friend. Had Harry seen the broadcast? Had he recognized him? What would he think of him now? …Were Uncle Ben, Captain Stacy, Gwen, and Aunt May judging him from the afterlife?

He really needed to stop feeling sorry for himself and figure his life out. Would he have to drop out of school? The press conference seemed to indicate that, he was too much of a risk for the rest of the school. Would child services throw a fit about letting a minor being a superhero? Not likely, but the possibility was there. What would happen to his aunt's… corpse? He would have to arrange the funeral, right? Could he borrow money from someone to get his aunt a decent burial? How was he going to pay them back?

There were too many _whats_ and _ifs_ in his brilliant mind; he needed to relax. He pictured Flash, still glaring at his TV set with his mouth wide open, after having recognized "Puny Peter Parker" as his idol murdering the likes of the world's superhero population.

A few persons looked at the laughing teen funny when they passed him by, but Peter didn't care much. He stretched his arms up and yawned, without a care in the world except that it was time for breakfast and he was starving.

"Wish I had brought money with me... No, I never have any money anyway. Rather, I wish someone would swoop in and pay for breakfast."

Then his spider sense started to beat a Thrash Metal rhythm inside his skull.


	3. Breakfast at Magneto's

Too fast for him to dodge, someone grabbed Peter's waist and dragged him away at super speed.

It took Peter a moment to realize who it had been, then a shorter, quietly panicking moment to realize where he stood_._

Quicksilver let go of Peter, grinning obnoxiously smug. The younger teen held his breath, suddenly very aware of the stench that clung to the rundown house, emanating from the greasy stains on the walls and rat-chewed carpet but mostly from Toad, who clung to a ceiling lamp overhead, catching flies with his long tongue like his namesake. Willing himself not to care about the smell, and noticing who stood atop the grungy stairs, Peter released his breath in resignation. Looooong day, indeed.

"Spider-man, I have a proposition for you." Magneto bellowed, hovering down the stairs like he was too good to walk (and maybe because the lamentable structure wouldn't hold his weight if he did walk).

He carried his helmet under one arm, letting his yogurt-colored hair sway lightly with the breeze, his eyes like two blue Froot Loops focused on the teen. The mutant's cape billowed behind him like a grandiose trail of… spilled grape juice, floating carelessly in suspended gravity and time. Peter _really_ needed to eat something.

"Look, Deadpool gave me the rings already and I gotta tell you I'm not even legal (nor interested, don't get any ideas) so..." He babbled, before his own rumbling stomach had the nerve to interrupt him.

"A proposition of a different sort. Have you had breakfast yet?" He landed, giving Peter a somewhat reassuring smile.

"No." Peter's spider-sense wasn't beating a war tune on his skull and his stomach was considerably empty.

"Come." The mutant directed him to the pitiful kitchen to the left of the lobby.

Peter followed him, intrigued and knowing this was one of the dumbest things he had ever done but if he could get Magneto to tell the other criminals that they were being crazier than usual it would be very worth his time.

Plus, you know, free food.

Quicksilver rushed to serve him a plate of cereal without milk –as one sniff to the carton had him put it down gently on the counter and stand back slowly-, and a glass of water. Peter quietly thanked the speedster before digging into his meal, politely listening to what Magneto had to say, all too aware that the elder mutant could turn his spoon into a deadly weapon and dispose of him should he offend the man too much.

And Magneto had a lot to say, about his plans for a "better future for all mutantkind" where they "took what was rightfully theirs from the lesser humans" and the Master of Magnetism "ruled benevolently over them".

"Uh, no offense or anythin' but…" Peter shyly interrupted, once his breakfast was over, "Why are you telling me all this?"

"I believe your help would benefit my plans." Magneto said it so matter-of-factly he might as well be explaining that one plus one equals two.

"Your plans of genocide? Yeah, not gonna happen, Maggie." The teen stood up and left for the lobby.

"Our kind and humans living together has proved futile many a time, Spider-man." He stated just as matter-of-factly, following him.

"What did you expect?" Peter glanced back at him, one hand on the unhinged door, "Humans living alongside _other humans_ have caused strife. Metahumans living near other metahumans have caused even stronger strife. You can't tell me you honestly think that eliminating humans is going to make everything a perfect little world. See ya 'round, Mags... or better not." He swung the door open as gracefully as he could (i.e.: not very) and left.

* * *

Annoyed and careless, Peter climbed up the side of Stark Tower, wishing he could sleep until his dying day. This desire only grew stronger when he came face to face with a very angry Nick Fury in his apartment.

"What, just what, were you even thinking? What part of you thought it was a nice morning to have breakfast with Magneto and flip him off?" He berated, before Peter had completely come through the window.

"It just happened!" Peter raised his hands in surrender.

"It just happened? And why did it happen? Oh, yeah, because you decided it was a great idea to go out alone after all the shit you pulled earlier."

Peter literally bit his tongue; there was nothing he could say that wouldn't make this situation worse. He just stood there while the S.H.I.E.L.D. Director shouted abuse.

Sometime later –Peter had mentally gone through the periodical element table thrice over in his head- the shouting stopped and Fury glared at him with one penetrating eye, as if waiting for an answer.

"Got it, won't happen again." He forced a cheery smile and mockingly saluted Fury.

"You're right it won't, because you are officially unauthorized to leave this tower alone until new notice." He growled, turning to the door.

"What? That's not-" The teen followed him across the living room.

"That's final, Parker." The director snapped, glancing briefly at him before leaving.

Even more annoyed and tired than before, Peter kicked off his shoes and stuck to the nearest wall. He climbed up, careful not to touch JARVIS' "eyes", the little cameras spread over nearly every ceiling of the tower except the master bathrooms, and continued to his bedroom until he dropped down on the bed and hid away from the world under the bed sheets.

His cell phone -his stupid cell phone that had only a few scratches to show for the alien invasion it had survived in his suit's inner pocket- rang and vibrated on the bedside table, begging for attention.

He ignored it even more vehemently that he had Fury earlier.

Sadly, that did not seem to deter the caller, who kept on calling back after every attempt to reach Peter failed.

Having enough of it, Peter grabbed the phone, readying to smash it against a wall.

"Hey, kid," Clint's annoyingly cheerful voice came from the doorway and when had the archer even gotten here? Sneaky secret agents.

"Hey." Peter's arm froze in place.

Clint sat on the bed's edge, nonchalantly saying, "Don't think Stark'd appreciate if you broke a StarkPhone under his roof, believe me JARVIS is a tattler when it comes to that."

"Hmmm." He lowered his arm.

Then the phone rang again.

Peter did throw the phone this time, but Clint caught it and answered it with a broad smile.

"This is Peter Parker's phone, also known as the Amazing Spider-line, who's calling? …Harry, Harry what?"

Mortified, Peter snatched his phone back.

"Ignore the idiot that just answered, okay? I do it most of the time anyway, look I…"

"My flight arrives tomorrow at noon; I'll pick you up and we can hit the town." There was a lot of background noise, mostly people yelling in a language Peter didn't understand, but Harry himself sounded calm. _Maybe he didn't watch the broadcast._

"I'm kind of not allowed out alone…" He felt ridiculous saying it aloud.

"Grounded again? No worries, you won't be alone, I'll be there too." The mischievous smirk that always preceded fun trouble for them was spiritually present in his tone. _Or maybe he didn't recognize me? _

"Heh, guess we'll figure something out. See ya then?" Maybe he could convince Clint to follow from a very long distance.

"See ya then." He hung up.

Peter glared at his teammate with all the distaste he could muster up.

"Amazing Spider-Line? Really?"

"Got you to pick up, didn't it?" He smirked.

Peter threw a pillow at him.

"I have a favor to ask you. Follow me tomorrow, from a huge distance… in fact, if you just leave and come back at the end that'd be great."

"Oh? What's in it for me?"

"Fury would force you to do it anyway."

"Fine." Clint hit him with his own pillow.

It soon developed into what was certainly not a pillow fight. Although it looked a lot like one, in fact it likely was the most pillow fight-like non-pillow-fight ever. But superheroes do not do pillow fights, so there was no way this was one, right?


	4. Let's hit the town and have some Doom!

Peter lay on the sumptuous leather couch, his legs resting up on one armrest. Having found that with the air conditioner off it got quite warm and comfy in addition of being taut, like his bed back home, the furnishing had become his favored spot in the whole apartment. He threw the TV's remote up in the air to catch it moments later and repeat the operation, afraid of what he might see on the news if he turned on the television.

His stomach grumbled, complaining about the lack of sustenance that had persisted for the last -Peter glimpsed at the digital clock hanging on the wall- three and a half hours.

He threw his arms up and exhaled a sharp sigh.

"Half past noon, no signs of Harry, I barely got permission to go out (and only because Hawkeye got Tasha to help convince the higher ups at SHIELD) and **you** are getting more demanding by the hour." He jabbed a reproachful finger at his stomach, "Seriously, what's up with that? Cause if you think that on top of everything I've got going I'll also end up fat you've got something else coming, mister."

He sighed again, softer this time, and shook his head slowly.

"And now the Amazing, Spectacular, soon-to-be-Avenging Spider-man has been reduced to talking to his own stomach. Because everyone else is too on edge to come here and be ranted at." He felt his throat tighten.

He sprung up from the couch and stretched, crackling every possible bone in his flexible body in the process. For the first time since The Invasion, the teen raised his chin stubbornly, squared his shoulders, and pushed his hands in his hoodie's pockets where his gloves and mask rested carefully folded away from sight.

"Bet Jolly Jonah is having a field day with all this," he muttered, striding towards the window.

Gazing down, he watched the world move and wondered. How many missed him or cared? Was there someone down there who didn't feel fear and repulsion when they thought of Spider-man?

Peter brushed a finger over the small bit of the Spider-man suit that peeked out of his hoodie's neckline. A second skin that he had spent most of the morning sewing carefully like a real spider, he wore it out of habit and because there was no force in the existing universe that could force the teen to quit altogether –he had personally tried to, once or twice, and it never stuck. He wouldn't need it for some time, what with the _sudden _drop in the crime rate and SHIELD forbidding him from crime fighting until new notice but in Manhattan, you never know.

_Here I am, up the waterspout gazing at them tiny little ants trying to make their lives down there. Well, not quite, ants are __**organized**__, after all. It's madness down there. _He mused.

The visage of a familiar lime green convertible broke him from his musing. Glancing heavenward, he exhaled, relaxing.

Free from hesitation for the time being, he strode back to the couch and picked up his phone the second it began ringing.

"I'm on my way down." He said.

Friday, for most teenagers, was date night. Peter and Gwen had honored this age-old tradition thoroughly before she… before The Bridge. In the month that followed, Harry had found every viable excuse, bribe, and threat to drag his best friend around town until curfew.

This was different in two ways: First, because Peter had nothing resembling objections to going out and hitting the town this time.

"Hey, it's been forever," Peter greeted as soon as he got in the passenger's seat, "How you've been?"

They bumped fists in manly greeting.

"Never better," He lifted his sunglasses up to his wavy red mane and studied his friend, "I'm starved, though. You hungry?"

"You really need to ask?"

"No, I've seen your cooking. The real question is where to?"

"Usual pizza place near the theater," he replied without hesitation.

"Always with the usual. Live a little, Pete!"

Peter took the sunglasses from him and put them on, leaning his seat back and crossing his ankles over the dashboard, "Then you suggest something, Har."

"Worry not, Peter. This is going to be a day you won't -" He cut himself off with a sudden shriek.

The _second _thing that set this Friday apart from others were the flying Doom-Bots lifting Harry's car and soaring away with both boys captive in it.

"Looks like it really will be unforgettable, huh?" Peter said lamely, pulling his feet down from the dashboard.

"Dude, seriously. Why did you have to be a superhero?" Harry sighed, getting a grip.

"So you know." He replied blandly, straightening his seat for lack of anything else to do.

"DUH." He turned to him, offended. "It was either that or a cowardly drug dealer, and I knew all the drug dealers."

Peter opened and closed his mouth many times before words could come out.

"They… uh… they don't seem to want to drop us or anything so I guess we're being kidnapped by Dr. Doom."

"So no food then."

"Who knows? I kind of had breakfast with Magneto yesterday."

"No way."

"Way. He thought I was a mutant, it seemed."

"You're not?"

"No, I got bitten by a genetically engineered spider." He saw Harry's doubtful expression and put his most serious face on. "Really."

"Yeah, and Doom's gonna treat us to lunch." Harry scoffed.

Peter, in spite of his hunger, glared at the tyrant instead of the menu. Annoyed as he was, he managed to point a random item in the menu and hope for the best when the very intimidated waiter showed up to ask for their order.

Diplomatic immunity or not, there were Doom-Bots standing ominously behind both teens and Peter was not one to appreciate having his friends or himself taken hostage, thank you very much.

Gotta hand it to Doom, though: when he makes a restaurant reservation, he really makes a reservation on the _whole restaurant_. And he picked very good restaurants to reserve too, judging by the delicious smell exuding from the dishes the anxious waiter brought them.

"Spit it out already, what do you want, Doom?" Peter snarled once the waiter left.

"That is not how one addresses their host, Spider-man. Another would have lost their tongue after speaking to Doom so rudely." He narrowed his eyes at him but soon they softened once again. "Doom merely wishes to proposition an alliance."

"…Okay, I'll bite. Tell me your evil plans or whatever." He cut into his lamb chops, feigning indifference.

"Do not mock me, Spider-man, for together we could vanquish the Fantastic Four—"

"And rule the world?" Harry interrupted, far too amused for his friend's taste.

"A laconic understatement, but yes." Doom accepted, sneering at the redhead.

"Look," Peter butted in, rubbing his temple, "The free food, the conversation, and the engagement rings? None of that will make me change sides, so please just… don't. And tell everyone else to stop it too."

"Engagement rings?" Harry mouthed at him, eyes big as saucers.

"Don't ask." He begged, then turning to Doom he added, "Heading Deadpool's advice is rarely a good idea, you know."

"True. Yet I cannot let you escape me." He pressed a button on his armor's forearm, causing the Doom-Bot's eyes to glow a menacing red.

His spider-sense went wild.

And that's when the Avengers busted through the windows.

So much for hitting the town.

* * *

**Haha, regular updates? Quality chapters? What is that? Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and all that, by the way.**


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